tagIncest/TabooFamily Tradition

Family Tradition

byMisterReason©

It had been a family tradition each year come late summer at the Carson farm, the canning of the excess tomatoes as well as the preparing of the various jellies and preserves that Ellie Carson had been known for all around the county.

This year would be a bit different, with the matriarch of the Carson clan having passed away the previous winter at the age of 65, but Hank Carson was a creature of habit, and found himself doing the planting the following spring as if his late wife was still there nagging him to do it.

Their daughter Whitney had encouraged her father to do it, with the promise that when it was time to process what didn't get sold at the roadside stand and at the farmers market in town, she would do the canning and everything else her Mom had always done.

Daughter Whitney had brought her only child with her to help. Tabby had just graduated from high school and was undecided as to whether to go the community college or get a job, so instead of having her mope around the house her mother insisted that Tabby join her at her grandparents farm.

Hank Carson was happy to have the company, because after sharing a home with his wife for nearly 50 years, a few months alone made him realize just how big and empty the old farmhouse was, so having the girls around for a week or so was something he looked forward to.

***

The first day...

"Gonna go to bed - maybe read for a while," Tabby said, giving her mother and grandfather a kiss and excusing herself from the kitchen table.

"A lot like you were at 18," Hank said to his daughter, trying but failing to keep from looking at his skinny granddaughter's rear end as she went to the guest room at the other end of the house.

"No way Dad," Whitney chuckled. "She's a lot more introverted and not as - you know. I was a wild one, if you recall."

"Oh, I recall," Hank said as he looked at his daughter, who was now closer to 50 than 40, but he could still remember her as a wild and rebellious teenager, her flaming red hair an indication of her personality as well as her other... tendencies.

Whitney's curly red hair was now augmented with a few strands of grey, and she had filled out a bit as women tend to do, but most of it was in the right places, Hank noted as he tried to change the subject.

"Great of you two to come out and help me out, Whitney."

"Love being out here," Whitney said. "Besides, at least out here I've got a man to talk to."

"Care for a cup of coffee?" Hank offered.

"Got anything stronger, Dad?" Whitney asked, and then got up. "I bet you do, and I remember where you used to keep it too!"

Hank watched his daughter reach around the back of the bread box to pull out the bottle of Jack Daniels that he always had stashed back there.

"Let's go outside, Dad. It's stuffy in here," Whitney said.

"How about glasses?" Hank asked, but Whitney was already out the back door.

Hank walked out back with his daughter, watching her take a swig out of the Jack before handing it to him, and when he took a swallow his throat burned while his mind raced, thinking that while maybe it was his imagination, he sensed that something besides humidity was in the air.

"Lot of memories here Dad," Whitney said as they went back toward the barn.

"Yeah, she's been a good farm for the family," Hank said, walking slower as if to avoid the barn.

"I meant the barn, Dad," Whitney said. "The barn. Behind the barn. Down by the creek. Summer of 1978, and I remember it like it was yesterday."

"Whitney..."

"Come on inside, Dad," Whitney said as she opened the door and held it open.

"Look honey," Hank started to say, but his daughter cut him off.

"I need to talk, Dad. We need to talk. It's been almost thirty years," Whitney said, closing the door after clicking on the dim light that shone in the back. "Please? You don't have to talk if you don't want to. I'll do the talking."

"Whitney, I'm sorry. I was sorry then and I'm sorry now," Hank said, his voice betraying his feelings.

"I'm not sorry Dad. I know that I made you feel guilty, but it wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was."

"No. I made you feel that way after you ended it, but that was just to hurt you. I wanted you. I seduced you, even if you didn't realize it. I played the innocent but I always wanted you to fuck me, and I usually got what I wanted back then."

"Honey..."

"You fucked me Dad. In every way and in every place, and it was my fault, if there is any fault at all," Whitney snapped.

"I know you were teasing me, but I was your father," Hank said. "Fathers don't do that to their daughters, no matter how attractive and seductive they are."

"I was pretty hot back then, wasn't I?" Whitney said with a wink, taking another belt of Jack and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and when her father said nothing she went on.

"I miss having guys look at me like they - and you - did back then," Whitney lamented. "Of course now, I'm just a dumpy middle-aged broad."

"Honey, you're still an attractive woman."

"Oh yeah? Tell Mike that," Whitney sneered as she mentioned her husband. "He hasn't touched me in over two years. Two freaking years. He's out right now fucking some cunt from his office, that's why he was so happy that I was coming out here with Tabitha. When I told him that I was coming out here Mike almost shit confetti."

"I told you - your mother told you - that you should get counseling."

"Fuck counseling," Whitney said. "Besides, let me tell you something. Even when we were actually acting like a man and a woman, I felt nothing when he put that needle dick in me. Nothing. Nothing like when you and I made love. Do you remember?"

"Of course I do," Hank said, nearly emptying the bottle with one swallow as the sweat poured down his spine.

"I used to watch you and Mom," Whitney said as she walked up to her father and played with the top button of his plaid shirt. "Every Saturday night after I went to bed I would go over to the spare room and look through that peep hole. I had already fucked a couple of guys by then, but when I saw you do Mom, I knew I was being cheated."

"Please," Hank practically begged.

"You used to take Mom like a savage. So rough - you were like an animal."

"That was the way I - we - liked it."

"I know," Whitney said, the fingers brushing the silver cloud of fur that peeked out from the neck of her father's shirt. "Never forget that time when I first saw you naked. I thought Reggie Barnaby had a big cock, but damn! I was so scared for Mom, because she was so tiny and you used to pound into her so hard!"

"No, please don't," Hank said, brushing her hands away from his belt and taking a step back.

"Don't make me beg, Daddy," Whitney whispered, tearing open her blouse to reveal her breasts, swinging just as unsupported as they had been when she was 18. "Remember these?"

Hank shook his head while staring at Whitney's huge breasts, and while she would have been at least a C cup back in that summer of 1978 had she owned a bra, the pale jugs that hung to his daughter's waist were probably double D's now.

Whitney stared at her Dad while unbuttoning her jeans, and when her panties came down and she exposed her lush red bush to her father's eyes, she knew he was weakening.

"I need it Dad."

"Whitney, I'm old. I'm heading toward 70. I don't even..."

"You can Dad," Whitney said as she walked toward him, and he was moving backwards when his back hit the wall and there was nowhere else to go. "You used to tell me that I gave the best head you ever had. Better than Mom. Remember? Were you just saying that?"

"No. You were the best," Hank said as his daughter fell to her knees in front of him, like she had so many times that summer long ago.

His baggy trousers fell to the ground, and then Whitney was pulling his boxers down his pale legs. When she saw the fat uncut hose that swung between her father's bony thighs she sobbed before grabbing it and bringing the thick tool to her lips, skinning it back to suck on the plum-sized head.

As Hank looked down, his hand running through his daughter's curly red hair like the old days, he marveled at the way her mouth stretched so wide, and how her mouth and throat were able to take most of him in despite his girth and length.

For the first time in months he felt himself getting hard because of his daughter's efforts, and as he looked down and saw Whitney's head bobbing up and down half of the length of his manhood while her right hand stroked what her mouth could not reach, he knew an erection was forthcoming.

Down below Whitney's pendulous breasts, her other hand was frantically fingering her pussy, using more and more fingers until she had almost her whole hand inside of herself, and while her father couldn't see it, he did see her shoulder moving just like it used to in getting herself primed.

Now hard, Hank was about to help Whitney to her feet, but his daughter was already moving. Scrambling to her feet, she jumped into his arms hugging and kissing, their tongues dueling while they moved to the old corner, where the dusty old couch still sat.

Hank stopped Whitney just before they got there, and bending her over a bale of hay, he pushed her forward and spread her legs while easing in behind her.

"OW!" Whitney squealed as Hank brought the head of his cock to the opening of her sex and pushed forward. "Split me in two Daddy!"

"Still so tight," he grunted, but he showed no mercy on Whitney's orifice and kept pushing, forcing his cock into her while his daughter bit her lip. The huge tool tore into her tender membrane, her muffled squeal nothing like the screams she wanted to let out as the enormous organ went where no other had reached for so long.

"Fuck me hard!" Whitney's voice urged as she sprawled helplessly over the hay, and when she felt her father's hand grab her curly red hair and pull her skull backward, the thrill almost made her cum from that alone.

"Still Daddy's little pig, aren't you?" Hank sneered, driving the entire length of his member deep into his daughter's pussy at an increasingly rapid tempo, and then he felt the walls of Whitney's pussy contract while her body shook.

Feeling her orgasm only made him more relentless, and he let go of her hair to grab onto Whitney's fleshy hips while she became his plaything. His thrusts became faster and faster, and while he knew his back would remind him of this in the morning, he was so crazed by the sight of his plump freckled daughter beneath him that he didn't care.

Whitney was cumming again, her reaction not nearly as strong as the first one, and then Hank felt his own orgasm on the horizon. From beneath him he heard his daughter gasp, "Don't cum in me, Dad."

Hank was about to pull his cock out of his daughter and pop his load onto her back like he used to do back in the day, but Whitney squirmed out from under him and went to her knees, her lips sliding over the head of his cock just before he was about to cum.

"Jeez!" Hank groaned as he came, her daughter taking her load into her mouth while her hands jacked his shaft and squeezed his balls until they were tapped.

"So good baby," Hank sighed as he looked down at Whitney trying to suck the last drops of seed out of his deflating dick, and then he was reaching down and grabbing his daughter under her arms and lifting her to her feet. "You're still the best."

They kissed again, a long and slow exchange that had their tongues sharing the product that helped create her almost fifty years ago, and then they looked into each other's eyes.

"Been so long since I had a man - a real man," Whitney sighed and then smiled as she felt her Dad's fingers idly stoking her moist smooth underarms as he held her biceps.

"Not a hippie any more, Dad," Whitney giggled, lifting her arms to reveal the creamy white pockets of her armpits. "I remember how that used to bug you."

"No it didn't, babe," Hank said, smiling at seeing that unlike her rebellious younger days, Whitney now shaved the hair that grew under her arms. "Actually, like everything else you used to do, the things you did to irritate me actually got me excited, but I didn't want to admit it."

"Guess we better get ourselves together," Whitney sighed as she looked around at their clothes strewn around the barn where they had been thrown in the heat of the moment, and then Whitney grunted as she started to walk.

"Feels like you're still in me, Dad," Whitney kidded as she picked up her father's trousers and brushed them off before handing them to him, giving his swaying manhood a pull before waddling over to her now button-less blouse.

They dressed in silence, and then moved out of the barn and toward the house, pausing before entering the back door to kiss once more.

"Can't have Tabby see me like this," Whitney said, holding her blouse together with her hands. "She's not like me - like I was I mean. She's kinda innocent."

"I know," Hank said, the meaning of his daughter's words not escaping him.

"Gonna be a long week being up here with you," Whitney said. "I mean that in a good way, you know? I've still got a lot of, let's say untapped energy inside of me."

"I could tell," Hank chuckled. "Just remember that I'm an old man."

"Couldn't tell that from the barn," Whitney said, smiling as she slipped into the house, her father behind her giving her plump rear a squeeze as they stepped into the darkened house.

****

Hank closed this bedroom door and leaned back against the door, her back starting to remind him that he just did something that he hadn't done in quite a while. Jerking off didn't take nearly as much out of you, he mused as he undressed, leaving his slacks and briefs on the floor as he walked to the dresser mirror and looked at his reflection.

"You still have it, you crazy old bastard," he said to his reflection, reaching down and giving his flaccid cock a pull, and that made the strong scent of his daughter's pussy rise up to him.

"You were hoping for some sex this week," Hank said to the mirror, and then laughed when he realized that he had done a lot of talking to himself lately.

He had been hoping for some kind of release, but hadn't expected it from his daughter, not after all these years. She was still a great piece of ass, even if she had put on a few pounds. Those tits were incredible, and seeing that furry triangle in the flesh sure wasn't the same as looking at the pictures.

The pictures. Hank wondered if Whitney knew he still had them, or even if she remembered posing for them, he mused as he fished out the envelope from the dresser drawer. Faded and slightly yellowed from age, the dozen Polaroids from that summer of 1978 were a wonderful reminder of that crazy time.

The Whitney in the pictures was thirty years younger and probably 20 or 30 pounds lighter, and her tits were more like footballs instead of the colossal melons she was sporting now. The hair on her pussy had been thicker back then, much like the hair on his own head had been.

Hank chuckled at the photo of Whitney posing like Marilyn Monroe, and seeing her flaunting the wild sprays of flaming red hair that filled her armpits back in those days made his drooping dick twitch a bit. Crazy Whitney.

Hank's eyes went to the bottle of blue pills on the dresser, and was proud that he hadn't even needed them tonight. Then again, he wasn't planning on having his daughter ambush him like that. It had been a delightful surprise, that it was.

No, Hank's hopes had been centered on the room next to his, and it had been funny when Whitney mentioned looking through the peep hole to watch her parents fuck.

"I saw you and you saw us," Hank mumbled as he went over to the viewing portal where he had watched his daughter countless times, and while he was assuming that Tabby was asleep by now, he wanted to give a peek into the room for old times sake.

"**

Hank was surprised to see the light on and his granddaughter still awake, reading as she lay on her stomach with the book beneath her. She still had the blue t-shirt on that she wore all day, but had shed her jeans and was wearing only panties below the waist.

Tabitha, or Tabby as she liked to be called, sure had her mother's features, which came from his late wife's side of the family. Tabby had the flaming red hair, the green eyes and the pale skin of her mother, even though she surely hadn't inherited her Mom's tits.

"Who knows where those whoppers of Whitney's came from?" Hank mumbled, glancing down at the small man boobs he had acquired in his old age, before looking back in the room. Tabby looked more like her Grandma did in that area, since his late wife was small breasted as well.

Ellie hadn't been 32A small though, Hank mused, as he recalled rummaging through Tabby's things while she was in the bathroom, looking at the tag on her bra along with examining other personal items to get better acquainted with his granddaughter. The bra had been padded too, Hank recalled as he shook his head at his perverted side which was now in full effect.

Tabby even had freckles on her thighs, the pale skin showing them off brightly, and while the short sleeves of her t-shirt hid most of her freckled arms, Hank remember that Tabby had a galaxy of freckles on her shoulders and back the last time he had seen her.

As he watched his granddaughter reading, unaware she was being observed, Hank thought back to the conversation with Whitney out in the barn just before they reprised their carnal activities of the past.

Whitney had mentioned that he had broken off their intimate relationship after the summer of 1978, and while she was right when she said that he had stopped the incestuous liaisons because he felt guilty, that wasn't the real reason.

He had been busted. His wife Ellie knew him like a book, and once night she let him know that he had had his fun, and like all good things, this illicit relationship with his daughter was coming to an end.

"Enough," Ellie had said, and the fact that she had his scrotum in her hand at the time was not the only reason he had listened carefully. "I know you're fucking Whitney. Can't say as I blame you, the way she struts around flaunting her stuff, because you're a man with as much lust as a whole battalion, but enough is enough. I don't know what she's got that I don't, besides a big bosom, but there's nothing she'll give you that you can't get from me."

"Really?" Hank recalled saying, because that wasn't true since Whitney was offering something that his wife had always shied away from, until then.

"You don't mean..." Ellie had said, shuddering visibly. "You've been putting that thing up Whitney's ass?"

Hank had nodded, and then mentioned that Whitney had no problem in doing something to him when he was having difficulty getting it up again after a few times. It had been something that a hooker had done to him when he was in the service, and when Hank had suggested it years ago Ellen had refused, saying the thought of putting her tongue "Down there" made her ill.

But that was then and this was now. "Shows how much I love you," Ellie had said, and after Hank had promised he would stop having sex with his daughter, they were in agreement. Hank had broken it off and never strayed again, and while Ellen didn't have much on top, and couldn't suck cock like Whitney, he loved her and she loved him so they made it work.

Now Ellie was gone, and Hank was hoping that Ellie wasn't looking down on him from the great beyond because if she was, she would be pissed, as much for leering at his granddaughter as for screwing Whitney. After all, Tabby wasn't a little hottie walking around half-naked trying to inflame him, but a little bookworm who was as timid as they come.

Tabby wasn't even all that pretty, Hank tried to reason. Her body lacked the curves her mother or even her grandmother had. Tabby had large teeth, her chin wasn't very prominent and when it came right down to it, in comparison the poor child was a bit behind in terms of her development While Hank knew Tabby would end up to be a little knockout once she got past this awkward stage, there was nothing about the young lady that would turn heads.

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